When Peyton and I exited, I realized I didn’t have transportation. Beau had ridden with me, and so had Masyn, so when they left the church, I gave him my keys. I could walk home if I had to, but doing so in a tuxedo would suck. It had to be in the nineties, and the sun was still shining brightly overhead, even as it started to set. Summer days lingered till nearly nine o’clock, and the heat never went away. I stopped on the steps and called Beau to see where they were.

“Hey, Lee,” Beau answered on the first ring, sounding better than he had this morning.

“Where are you and Masyn?” I shielded my eyes from the early evening sun and scanned the streets. They weren’t likely to be nearby; I didn’t want to look like a moron talking on a cellphone while standing on the steps of an empty church in a tux.

Peyton shifted her weight more than once, waiting to see if she needed to drop me off. Her continuous movement caught my attention, and I realized the shoes she had on must be strangling her feet.

I twisted the phone away from my face and motioned to her heels. “Take ’em off.”

“I’m meeting Masyn at Sadler’s. I just left the lawyer’s office. Where are you?” Beau kept talking, while I steadied Peyton’s arm so she could remove her shoes.

“Just finished cleaning up your mess,” I answered into the phone, distracted by the neon-pink polish on Peyton’s toes.

“Yeah, sorry about that. You need me to come get you?”

Peyton shook her head, clearly having overheard the conversation I had with Beau.

“Nah, Peyton said she’d drop me off. I assume Masyn still has my truck?”

“Unless she sold it in the last couple of hours.”

“You’re a huge help. Thanks, Beau.” He couldn’t see my face, but I was certain he heard the sarcasm in my voice.

“Anytime. I’ll see you in a few.”

I didn’t bother saying goodbye when I ended the call. “You sure you don’t mind giving me a ride?” I asked Peyton.

Her heels now dangled at her side and the grimace of pain had vanished. “Not at all. It’s certainly better than what I’m going to face at the hotel.”

It hadn’t dawned on me that when she left here, she’d still have her sister to contend with—not to mention her mother and father. “You want to come with me to Sadler’s? It’s a hole in the wall with cheap beer and greasy food. It reeks of cigarette smoke, and you can hardly hear yourself think over the jukebox and people playing pool.”

“Well, with that kind of endorsement, how could I say no?” She laughed, and her blue eyes danced in the sunlight. “Any possibility we could stop somewhere to change clothes?”

I glanced at her attire and then at my own. Peyton was right; showing up at a redneck bar in a wrinkled tuxedo and bridesmaid dress probably wasn’t the best idea. “My house isn’t far from here.”

“Lead the way.” She pointed to her rental car and handed me the keys. “It’s easier if you drive since you’re familiar with the streets.”

I would never argue with a woman over her wanting me to drive. I hated riding bitch in a sedan with a woman driving. It chipped away at my manhood every second I spent trapped in the passenger seat.

In less than ten minutes, we were in and out of my house. Peyton changed into what I assumed she’d worn to the church before she’d put on the dress—tight, skinny jeans, a silky, dark-green tank top, and tan, patent-leather heels. I shook my head at the sight of her—she’d stand out like a sore thumb, and every guy within a twenty-five-mile radius would be alerted to her presence within fifteen seconds of us walking through the door. If I were into high-maintenance girls, she’d be at the top of the list, and guys in Harden, Georgia, weren’t used to the Peyton Holsteins of the world.

“Your house is cute.”

I would never describe a man’s home as cute. “Thanks.”

“I’d love to have a little bungalow like that.”

“Bungalow?”

It was a three-bedroom, two-bath ranch. Nothing bungalow about it.

“You know, a cute little house.”

I put the car in gear and shook my head. She didn’t even know it was a backhanded compliment, so I couldn’t hold it against her. We came from two different worlds. I was part of the middle class in this county. I’d likely be homeless in New York, or wherever she went to school.

Peyton gasped, and I slammed on the brakes. “Oh, Lee. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way you took it.”

Jesus. She scared the shit out of me, thinking I’d run over a cat or hit a kid. “I know.”

“Probably not. Any idea what living at a boarding school is like?”

We were moving again, so I didn’t have to face her. “It’s not the Ritz Carlton?”

“Not the ones I went to. It was like being in a dorm you could never leave. I mean, we could leave, just not go home. Even in the summer, my parents enrolled us in different camps around the world. Then I left for college and was back in a dorm again. Having a house of my own with a yard and a pool would be a dream.”

I let out a humph and dropped one hand from the steering wheel. “Sorry, I tend to get my ass on my shoulders about shit that doesn’t matter.”

“I get it. You’re proud. You should be.”

I wasn’t fishing for compliments. The radio seemed like a better choice than conversation, so I reached for the volume to turn it up. Peyton and Masyn had the same horrible taste in music.

“You guys have some great radio stations down here.”

“They’re all out of Atlanta. I’d think New York has a selection second to none.”

She giggled, and when I turned toward her, she seemed softer than before—easygoing. “We do. I assumed, based on what little bit Felicity said about Beau’s hometown, that there’d be rabbit ears on the television sets in the local motel. And we’d eat dinner at the drive-in next to the thrift shop. Harden’s been a nice surprise…minus the whole canceled wedding thing.”

I pulled her rental car into the gravel parking lot of Sadler’s. There wasn’t much to the place on the outside—or inside for that matter—just an old building that had been a bar for as long as I could remember. “Still think Harden’s a quaint town?”

Peyton swatted at my arm playfully and unbuckled her seatbelt. “Stop. It’s not like I’ve never been to a dive before.”

“Come on.”

We wove our way through the parked cars and four-wheel drives and made it to the covered entrance. I held the heavy door open so Peyton could step inside. The layer of smoke wasn’t quite as dense as usual, and the crowd remained thin. When the steel door slammed behind us, she jumped and grabbed my hand. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“I promise, no one here bites.”

She nodded but didn’t let go of me. It didn’t take long for me to spot Masyn and Beau in a booth in the corner, and I pointed them out to Peyton. She took that as her cue to move away from the door and in the direction of my friends.

“Hey, Lee.” Sherry, one of the waitresses who’d been here since she could legally serve alcohol, stopped us. “Good to see you. Who’s your friend?” Her mouth kept moving even after she quit speaking—gum. Bless her heart; her mama had never told her that a cow chewing cud wasn’t an attractive thing to mimic.

“Sherry, this is Peyton; Peyton, Sherry.”

Peyton extended her hand, not expecting Sherry to take it and pull her in for a hug. Peyton’s apprehension was easy to spot with her arms stiffly at her sides. She stepped back on shaky legs when Sherry finally released her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, honey. Lee’s good people. You take care of him.” She winked and chomped on her gum some more. Then she popped a kiss on my cheek. “Lani has Beau’s table, but I’ll get by there before you guys leave.”

“Thanks, Sherry.”

“How do you two know each other?” Peyton’s stark-white face revealed her anxiety. She acted as though she’d just stepped into another dimension instead of a bar.

I grabbed her hand and started walking. “We went to high school together. She graduated with us.”

“She’s your age?” She didn’t try to hide her shock.

“That’s what hard living does. Sherry’s had it rough her whole life and worked like a slave for everything she has. It’s definitely aged her.”

Beau stood when we got to the table, as any Southern gentleman would do. “Hey…guys. I didn’t know you were coming, Peyton.” The splotches started to form on his cheeks.

“Dude, sit down. She didn’t come to chew you out. She’s been in purgatory with me all afternoon handling your crap.” Beau slid into the booth next to Masyn, leaving the other side for me to share with Peyton. “You wouldn’t believe the questions and accusations we heard. I need a beer—or ten.”

“Lani’s bringing you one.” Beau eyed Peyton with hesitation. “I didn’t know you were coming or I would have ordered something for you. What do you want? I’ll go get it.”

While the two of them sorted that out, I tried to determine why Masyn was glaring at me through slits in her eyes from across the table.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Dandy, babe.” Her panties were twisted over something, although I’d be damned if I knew what. She wasn’t the one who’d had to make a hundred phone calls to people she didn’t know, or face upset guests to defend a bitch I’d rather expose.

My brow furrowed in confusion. Even when Masyn was pissed, she just told me she was pissed. Games weren’t her thing, and neither was pussyfooting around a topic. I could only assume that whatever was eating at her had to do with either Beau or Peyton—although Beau was a saint in Masyn’s world—leaving only Peyton. Somewhere along the way, I’d missed something. They’d giggled and yapped it up last night while they plotted against Felicity, yet suddenly, Masyn was trying to shoot death lasers from her eyes at Peyton.

When Beau returned with a glass of wine—I didn’t even know Sadler’s served wine—he sat down and immediately started unpacking his afternoon.

“He thinks Felicity screwed herself, but you guys might have to write a letter or something to the court if the Holsteins try to take this anywhere.”

This had to be painfully awkward for Peyton. Even if she didn’t care for her sister, listening to someone talk about suing your family couldn’t be easy.

“All of us?” I asked.

He looked around the table, remembering his ex-fiancée’s sister was there, too. “Well, you and Masyn. I’m sure Peyton will get hooked by the Holsteins’ attorney.”

No need to dwell on that. “Moving on.”

“My trust fund is safe since she’s not pregnant—although, the lecture I had to hear from my dad almost made the wedding sound more appealing. And, since I can prove the date I tried to call things off, worst-case scenario, I might be liable for the expenses paid up to that point. But Josten thinks he can get me out of that, too.”

“Do I even want to know how you can prove you tried to call things off? Or how much money you might be on the hook for?”

Our conversation kind of left Masyn and Peyton to sit back and listen, which Peyton seemed content to do. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea for Beau to be spilling the details in front of Peyton, but this was his rodeo. Masyn, on the other hand, continued to shoot me eat-shit looks with her arms crossed and her lips pursed.

Beau took a long pull from his beer. “Email. And upwards of fifty grand.”

I nearly choked. “Please tell me you did not email the girl to break off your engagement.” Beau had a horrible habit of living on electronic devices. They were his favorite ways to communicate—not through talking—texting…the written word. It drove me insane. And we’d get to the money next.

“No, jackass. I talked to her in person. Emails and text messages were exchanged during class. The emails are dated.”

“Where the hell are you going to come up with fifty thousand dollars?” That was an entire year’s salary, including overtime for me. And Beau hadn’t started his job. “Trust fund?”

“I don’t have access to it until I’m twenty-five.” Color me confused. “I don’t know. That’s worst case. I’ll figure it out if it comes to that. It’s a small price to pay to get out of this.” He glanced over at the blonde sitting next to me. “Sorry, Peyton, no offense.”

“None taken.” She beamed and sipped her wine, intent on listening to more. “I never understood your attraction to her in the first place. But who am I to judge?”

“That was a popular question all around.” Masyn finally joined the conversation, however briefly.

Turning to Peyton, I explained, “Masyn and I tried to talk Beau out of proposing last Christmas. It didn’t have anything to do with Felicity. We didn’t know her. We just thought they were rushing things.” That was a nice way to put that we believed she was after his last name and bank account.

“Anyway,” Beau continued, “if her parents don’t fight it, and Josten doesn’t believe they will, then I’m just stuck with legal expenses for his time.”

Josten White was the only lawyer in town. He’d graduated from high school with Masyn’s oldest brother, Ty. Once he passed the BAR, he came back to Harden to set up practice. We all thought he was crazy at the time—nothing happened in Harden to need an attorney, people didn’t even get divorced. Oddly enough, once he’d opened his doors, business started flowing through. Workers’ comp, farmers with land disputes, child support—he did it all. And made bank.

“I can’t imagine my parents fighting any of this. My mom won’t want the negative publicity. She’d die if her precious Felicity were ever held accountable for her actions. Don’t be surprised if they pay you to go away.”

Twice in five minutes, I’d tried to kill myself choking on beer. “You can’t be serious.”

“Reputation is everything. This would not bode well for the Holstein family name.” Peyton didn’t seem the least bit concerned over any of it. She hadn’t even bothered to call her parents or her sister after we left the church to check on them or check in.

“Can I get anyone another beer? Wine?” Lani was another girl who’d graduated with us. She’d gotten pregnant our senior year and ended up marrying Jimmy Adler after the baby was born. They now had two more kids—in less than four years—and lived in a doublewide right outside of town. Sweet girl, dumb as a box of rocks. “What about you, Masyn? Want anything?”

“I’ll take another beer.” I slid out of the seat. “I’m going to the head. Be right back.”

“Bathroom, you buffoon.” Masyn squinted at me in irritation. Maybe it wasn’t Peyton she was upset with; I appeared to be her only target.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” It was like rubbing sandpaper on her already snarly mood. The wink I tossed her direction was merely the icing on the cake.

When I returned, Beau and Peyton were in the booth alone. He was smiling, and she appeared to be enjoying herself. I wondered if Sherry had slipped something into her drink that I could dump in Masyn’s to sweeten her disposition a bit.

“Where’d Masyn go?”

Beau tilted his head toward the pool tables. Through the smoke-filled room, I could see Masyn leaned over the edge of a table, lining up a shot with Toby Hayes up her ass. He had her caged in from behind, talking in her ear. He’d been trying to get in her pants since high school, and the nicest thing I could say about him was he was a grade-A douchebag. She knew what she was getting into going over there, so I let it go. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings to watch her use that cue to beat him off.

The longer we sat there, the heavier the crowd got. Sadler’s was the hangout for most of the younger men in town in the afternoon—shoot pool, drink beer, watch the game. In the evening, couples showed up. Everyone knew everyone else, and this was where we all chose to congregate. There was a tiny stage in the corner where different bands played on Saturday nights. I had no idea who was currently setting up, but once the music started, there would be women dragging their dates, boyfriends, husbands, or whomever they’d arrived with onto the tiny dance floor in front of the band. The place went from pool hall to honkytonk in just under an hour.

I had no idea I’d end up being one of those guys.

“Dance with me?” Peyton asked.

“Lee doesn’t dance.” Beau snickered, thinking he’d said something cute. Someone needed to cut him off.

“Oh, come on. Everyone can slow dance.” She tilted her chin down and gazed up at me with hopeful eyes.

One dance wouldn’t kill me. “Fine.”

My palms started to sweat as they rested on her waist, and claustrophobia set in when Peyton draped her arms around my neck. I hated dancing. I never knew if I was supposed to talk, how close to get, where to put my hands—it was always awkward. I didn’t even want to think about the people who might be watching me. Peyton didn’t seem to have the same apprehension. She swayed with confidence while chatting easily.

“I can see why you like living here.”

I found it hard to make eye contact with someone standing so close, much less engage in casual conversation. “Why’s that?”

“You know everyone and their history. You’re a part of it. All of your friends are here, your family. I think it’d be nice to walk down the street and say hello instead of staring at the ground, hoping no one bothers you.”

“You don’t like New York?”

“I do. It’s just different. Life here seems slower. The pace isn’t so rushed.”

Before I could respond to Peyton, Beau happened to grab my attention, jerking his head to the right. Without picking Peyton up and spinning her around, I had to wait until we naturally shifted to see what had his eyes bugged out and his jaw set.

The second I laid eyes on what he gaped at, I nearly lost my shit. Toby’s hands were all over Masyn’s ass, and his thigh was between her legs. This wasn’t Dirty Dancing, and he sure as shit wasn’t Patrick Swayze. But the longer I watched, I noticed she wasn’t trying to get away from him—she was encouraging it. Her head dipped to his chest, and she rocked her hips on his jeans. Any second now, she’d toss her hair back and release the sounds of an orgasm, like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally. That would undoubtedly get the town talking. Staring at her, I realized I’d let her pick way too many movies over the years, when all my film references came from sappy chick flicks with happy fucking endings.

When the song ended, I went back to the booth, and Peyton went in search of the bathroom. I warned her to squat and not sit, but she just looked at me like she didn’t understand—she would when she got there. Masyn stayed on the dance floor with Toby, not once looking in our direction. “What is she thinking?”

“Who knows? She’s a chick, Lee. They get hormonal and emotional over shit that doesn’t matter.”

I didn’t bother trying to hide my irritation; Beau would see through any shit I tried to play off anyhow. “What does she have to be emotional about?”

“I’m only speculating based on the huffs of jumbled muttering I’ve heard since you and Peyton showed up.”

“Are you going to share that with me?”

“She said you won a bet. That meant nothing.”

I knew exactly what it meant; I danced with Peyton when I’d told Masyn I wanted to dance with her. “She was playing pool with dickface when Peyton asked me to dance.”

“And she practically growled when she saw you holding Peyton’s hand coming in the door.”

“Jesus. I wasn’t holding her hand like we were together. I was pulling her back here.”

“Nevertheless, her territory’s being invaded, and she doesn’t know how to defend it.”

Lani brought me another beer that I immediately downed in frustration. If it had been a can, I would have cracked a hole in the bottom and shotgun the damn thing. “That’s horseshit.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Think about it, Lee. The three of us have been friends since we were five. And in all those years, no one new has ever come into town unless they were born here. Peyton’s an outsider in Masyn’s tiny world. I could see how Masyn would be intimated by her.”

“You’re a dick, dude.”

“I’m calling a spade a spade. Masyn’s a great girl, but most guys don’t get off on a chick being a gearhead. Watch the way the dudes in this place follow Peyton everywhere she goes—they don’t even try to hide their interest. They’re like dogs in heat—except they’re humans. She’s hot. And women recognize that crap.” He drank the rest of his beer with me staring at him.

My mouth hung open and I sat in stunned silence, wondering how he came up with this crap.

“Guarantee you, Masyn thinks you’re after Peyton. And in her mind, she already has the two of you married off and you moving to New York.”

“There’s no way. Masyn’s never been like other girls. And she sure as hell isn’t envious of them.”

“If she could piss on your leg without making a mess, she’d totally claim you as hers, Lee. She doesn’t have to with the other girls in Harden; they already know it. Peyton does not.”

“Even if that were true—and I don’t believe it is—how is using Toby’s leg as a stripper’s pole solving anything?”

He scoffed as though the answer were simple. “Dude, revenge.”

Peyton stood at the end of the table unable to slide in with Beau and me in the outside seats. “What’d I miss?”

I glanced out on the dance floor one more time to see Masyn acting like an idiot and knowing she’d regret this tomorrow—the rumors would be flying before the sun came up. “Nothing. You about ready to get out of here?”

Masyn had my truck keys, and there was no way in hell I was stepping out there to pry her off of Toby Hayes to get them.

Peyton’s expression was a mixture of confusion and disappointment. “Yeah, I guess.”

I dropped enough cash on the table to cover mine and Peyton’s drinks, plus a tip, and then looked to Beau. “Don’t let her drive if she keeps drinking.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Beau leaned back against the booth, and a smile slowly rose on his lips as he watched the people around us.

“Peyton, do you mind taking me home? Masyn has my keys, and she’s rather preoccupied.”

“Not at all.” She said bye to Beau and waved to Masyn as we walked past her.

I’d hoped we wouldn’t draw Masyn’s attention when we left, but Peyton was trying to be nice—she had no idea she’d just stirred up a hornet’s nest. Well, until Masyn stopped dancing and glared at the two of us—at that point, it was pretty clear Masyn wasn’t happy. I didn’t bother to stop.